


The Two Merlins

by Dagonet (TsukikoCurrier)



Series: Vaguely Magical 'Verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsukikoCurrier/pseuds/Dagonet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now, I'm not at all privy to what's going to happen in here, but it's basic procedure for all Merlins to go through the task that awaits within."</p><p>"Well, that doesn't sound ominous or anything."</p><p>"I'm afraid you'll find that ominous comes with the job."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rufus Scrimgeour

**Author's Note:**

> FOR REFERENCE:  
> I'm using the Actor's ages for my timeline, SO
> 
> It's 1989  
> Merlin is 26, and Chester King has been Arthur for about 12 years
> 
> After calculating this I realised that Robards was not, in fact, head of the Auror Office at this time and thus could not be Merlin. I edited accordingly.
> 
> Rufus Scrimgeour has an unknown beginning date to his term as Head Auror, but he was in that position until 1996

          "Welcome to Kingsman, Merlin."

          Handshakes were exchanged, Arthur's hand clammy in his own, and a small frown upon his face. It was well known that Arthur didn't think that proper agents could come from anything less than at least pale blue blood or a bank account large enough to fund a small country. As if blood and wealth were what talent and dedication were born from. Arthur let go of his hand, passing over a file before sitting back down heavily.

          "These are your papers, be sure to fill in whatever menial information isn't there, you never know what could come in handy in any given situation. You're lucky that your wife passed last year- leaves you no outside ties to worry about and no obligations when it comes to families. You can pass off any inability to see them as a reluctance to bring up the painful memory."

          "It wouldn't entirely be a lie, sir." His left hand was clenched tightly into a fist, nails biting into his palm as the other hand delicately held his file. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go back to the barracks and get a head start on filling out my paperwork."

          "Sorry, but I actually can't do that. Besides, you have a new office and subordinates that can assist you. Gawain here," Arthur gestured to a man who had not been there a moment ago, who had to have arrived while he resisted the urge to punch Arthur square in the jaw, "will lead you to your new office and show you the ropes." They left without a glance at Arthur, and headed down to the tube.

          He _had_ to learn to notice more around him- if he had been in the field the mistake of not noticing Gawain could have cost him his life. As it was his ears burned with humiliation- not that Gawain had said much of anything about it himself. Scout trotted along beside him, apparently unaffected by being shot at- blanks or not the noise was certainly deafening, but he had not wavered from Merlin's side.

          "Okay, Merlin, you're our new tech genius. You may be called out on assignment once in a while to keep your skills sharp, but mostly you'll be here." Gawain pushed a door wide open, and Merlin nearly drooled at all of the tech out on display. "I can see that you won't be complaining much?"

          "If I'm allowed to have my hands on even half of this stuff I'll die a happy man. Why would I complain?"

          "Well, most people would be disappointed by not being in the field as much- especially considering the training you just went through."

          "Well I'm certainly not most people."

          "You couldn't be; not to get this position. Now, put the file down at your desk. You can come back later to finish it, but you've got something else to do first." Mentally, Merlin shrugged and scratched his head, but physically he did as he was told and followed Gawain silently from the room. He didn't pay attention to the halls that they passed through, which was probably a mistake, but considering he'd been initiated into a spy organisation mere moments ago he felt it could be excused. After all, he had years to explore and learn the twists and turns of Kingsman.

          "Now, I'm not at all privy to what's going to happen in here, but it's basic procedure for all Merlins to go through the task that awaits within. No one's going to come looking- apparently there was once a Merlin who didn't leave here for days (who knows why they weren't hungry when they left)- but it's part of procedure to tell you that no one's going to come looking." Gawain pulled open a door, and within sat a desk and walls covered in paintings.

          "Well, that doesn't sound ominous or anything."

          "I'm afraid you'll find that ominous comes with the job. Now, in you get. I'll take your dog back to your office. Scout, isn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, Gawain called to Scout (who left without so much at looking at his owner) and closed the door behind him, leaving Merlin in relative darkness. It was dimly lit, the room, and with a lack of options if he wanted to remain a Kingsman Merlin sat at the desk. There was a fireplace to the side, quite tall though apparently unused due to the distinct lack of ash within, and the roof was much higher than first assumed- paintings of all shapes and sizes from floor to ceiling.

          It was somewhere between a moment and an eternity later that the fireplace exploded with green light. It was lucky that Merlin had been sitting at the moment, for he surely would have jumped and fallen over at the sight. As it was he turned sharply at the sudden change and stood- reaching for a weapon he did not have.

          "Pretty good instincts, for a muggle." There was a voice tainted with disdain, and a man, coming from within the fireplace. If he was made of softer stuff Merlin would have fainted, but he was a Kingsman and instead prepared himself for possible attack. The man chuckled, wiping what seemed to be ash from his odd clothing before turning. "You couldn't protect yourself from me if you used every gadget in your arsenal. Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." The 'today' was obviously implied but left off for reasons unknown.

          "Who are you, and how the hell did you do that?" The man continued to dust himself off, seemingly ignoring Merlin. He was wearing the oddest arrangement of garments- a long cloak covering what could only be called robes and a set of thin-wired spectacles- and as their eyes finally met Merlin felt much like a bug pinned to a board. Trapped, hopeless, and thoroughly judged.

          "Ah, questions I can answer, I guess you're slightly less shocked than I originally assumed. I am Rufus Scrimgeour, our side's Merlin and that, muggle, was magic. I'm not here to answer all of your questions, only the ones I feel like, and with any luck I'll have to never see your sorry face ever again." The man who had introduced himself as a Merlin (wasn't he Merlin? Was there more than one agent per codename? That could get confusing) pulled a stick from his pocket. Merlin, wary but put at least slightly at ease by the man's seemingly candid words, sat back down at the desk.

          "Now, I'm quite certain that you don't believe me fully because none of you muggles believe that there is something greater than yourselves out there. Especially in this organisation. (Honestly what is Chester thinking?) So here is a more practical demonstration." Twisting the stick in a series of intricate loops a chair popped into existence, high backed and made of supple leather, that Scrimegour then sat himself in. All in all, he looked far more at home in the room than he. Scrimgeour exuded confidence and commanded respect with the very way his jaw was set- Merlin decided to emulate that look. It could come in handy, with his age, considering the other agents he would soon be guiding.

          "That, Merlin, was magic. It's something that your technology will never understand or be able to replicate. It is above you, as I am, and your job in this organisation, besides keeping your fellow muggles alive, is to be the connection between Kingsman and the Ministry of Magic. I'm Merlin on our end, and you're Merlin here."

          "You don't seem to be very happy with this arrangement. Why come at all?" The shock had certainly set in, because Merlin was operating on auto pilot. He asked and answered questions with the first thing that popped into his head, which according to all of his training was both the best and the worst thing an agent could possibly do. He hoped it was the former, in this situation.

          "It's the way it has been since your organisation's inception. In the wake of our own war our Minister sought out yours- you didn't seriously believe that a group of _muggles_ thought this up on their own did you?" A sneer upon Scrimgeour's lip unsettled him in the way mice are unsettled by cats- too frightened to move for a moment and wholeheartedly terrified.

          "You keep using that word- Muggles. What does it mean?" Merlin thanked whatever deity he could think of that his voice wasn't shaking. He'd had enough humiliating experiences for one day.

          "A group of folk less gifted than my own. Those without magic, and not even from magical families. The numbers might be in your favour but in skill it would take dozens of you to take down one of us. Even with every toy you could find."

          "You sound like you've thought of that a lot- battle between us- I thought we were supposed to be on the same side?"

          "There are good and bad in every civilisation, kid." The dismissal was clear in the lines of his face and the disinterested wave of his hand. Scrimgeour wasn't even meeting his eye and instead looking vaguely at the paintings in the room.

          "Don't patronise me." There was more to his so called calculations than 'good and bad.' That was personal, unless he held a negative view of the entirety of the human race (muggles?) but surely someone like that wouldn't be in a position of power.

          "Look, I'm done here, I don't have to coddle you. You're new, you're naive, and now you know who I am and who I work for. If you plan on contacting me and my people to help with your pathetic problems," yellow eyes met golden brown briefly over the rims of his glasses, "don't."

          Without so much as a 'by your leave' Scrimgeour stood, silver-streaked hair falling gracefully from the ribbon it had been tied back with, and walked briskly to the fireplace. A vague gesture of his hand made the chair disappear as quickly as it had popped into existence before, and in a flash of light and a phrase that sounded oddly like 'diagonally' he was gone.

          "I never, ever, want to see him again. He's a prick."

          "He's not all that bad, Merlin." A voice chimed from his left, and turning he found himself facing a painting. A painting that, it seemed, was speaking to him. And moving. More magic, it seemed.

          "I'm Skylar, I was Merlin before you, and now it's time to learn the fun part of our job."


	2. Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2007  
> Harry Potter has just been initiated as Head Auror (and thus, Merlin)  
> Merlin's been in his position for 18 years

          "Merlin, you're needed. Your office, soon as possible." The note had not been on his desk a moment ago- thick calligraphy set upon parchment, he would have noticed it- and was obviously important. He was reluctant to leave his station, he was in the middle of guiding two agents himself, but the wizards couldn't wait to tell him, so he grabbed an agent who had just finished his last task, and sat him as his station.  
  
          Only so many people could make things appear from thin air after all.  
  
          "Take over here, Lucan. Gawain just needs to get to his extraction point and he's golden, but he needs to watch for this hall, and on this side is Bedivere; there's hostiles three halls down but as long as he's careful and quiet nothing should happen. Be quiet, be concise, and let them do their jobs." He didn't want to leave something like this in anyone else's hands, but his experience with wizards was not a kind one. He did not want to keep them waiting- and Lucan had been the only unoccupied agent in the room. "If you need assistance, or need a question answered, tap into my glasses feed. I'll answer as best I can until I get back."  
  
          The halls were familiar, now, though he held no more affection for his destination than he did 18 years ago. He had not liked Scrimgeour one bit (though his countenance had helped shape his own) and Robards had been not one whit different. There was no use in updating them on current events, they didn't remember even the largest points of not on the 'muggle' end of things, and quite honestly he had taken to making up natural disasters and names as of recent just to keep himself entertained. It wasn't as if Arthur had access to these meetings or the records of them, and if he did he certainly never admonished Merlin for his actions. Small pleasures.  
            
          The room smelled of ashes and the tang of recently performed magic, and there was already someone sitting at the desk when he walked in. The portraits were laughing quietly at something the man had said, even as he waved them off and shushed them, apparently wholly aware that the room was not impenetrable without having acknowledged his presence. There was a chair already conjured, something that no other visitor had done (they seemed to have this incessant need to prove they could do these impossible things repeatedly), and it was far more homely than the ghastly fixings the other wizards had made for themselves. The man stood after the paintings had calmed themselves, and casually walked up to him. He was dressed in jeans and a pressed shirt, obviously more at home in the muggle world than either of Merlin's past wizard visitors, and as he smiled and offered his hand Merlin for once wasn't wholly dreading this meeting.  
  
          "Afternoon, Merlin. Tea?" Green eyes peered through brown spectacles, and black hair looked far more windswept than styled- but who was Merlin to judge wizard fashion? There was a set of china upon the desk, which he hadn't noticed before, cups steaming.  
  
          "Afternoon. What can I do for you- where's Robards?" There was a wariness in his voice. Merlin honestly hadn't wanted to ask about him, but it seemed only polite.  
  
          "Retired; you'll not have to see him again. I mean, honestly, he did his job well but with that attitude... I doubt you two got much done in your meetings. He was difficult to work with on my end, I can't imagine on yours." He breathed out an exasperate chuckle that gave way to the clink of china as the bespectacled man picked up his tea and took a sip.  
  
          "You could say that, yes. And who are you, exactly?" It was too much to hope that this man would be the new liaison between their offices. He was too put together in this world- there certainly had seemed to be a prerequisite for awful fashion sense for the previous wizard Merlins.  
  
          "Harry Potter, the new Merlin on our side. Do you really do things like in those James Bond films?" Well colour him surprised, it seemed that something had changed on their end of things enough for someone at least vaguely likable to hold office. Though he could not possibly have heard Potter correctly-  
  
          "I'm sorry?"  
  
          "The whole spy thing. Is it really like those James Bond films, with the explosions and cool gadgets? I mean, magic's great and all but being an actual spy must be brilliant." Potter was leaning on the balls of his feet, somehow managing to look shy and eager at once.  
  
          "Not always, no. It's a lot of information gathering and hacking, actually, but there are occasionally explosions. We try to avoid them, though- they draw far too much attention. The gadgets, on the other hand... Forgive me, but I wasn't aware that wizards even knew who Bond was." In fact Merlin had been quite thoroughly convinced that wizard kind as a whole disliked 'muggles' and 'muggle' inventions alike.  
  
          "Well the last two certainly didn't, but I was raised on this end of things and my best friend's muggleborn. She keeps me up to date with major stuff while I'm busy on our end." Potter ran a hand through his hair, looking for all the world like someone sheepishly admitting to having done wrong.  
  
"Muggleborn?"  
  
          "Exactly what it sounds like- she was born here in the muggle world but has magic- her parents are actually a pair of dentists. It's surprisingly common, though many people would rather fall arse over tit than admit it. Luckily that's changing, but it's slow goings, there's too much 'tradition' that we can't step on to work around." He sat down heavily in the conjured homely chair, forearms resting on his knees as he looked at Merlin eagerly.  
  
          "Now then, to business. I don't know how you've handled things between our agencies before but I'm a more of a hands on man. I'd like to be able to at least vaguely understand what's going on at your end of things most of the time- no specifics, I understand confidentiality and all that- but I can't help if you have to explain every facet of something when asking for assistance. In return, I'm willing to explain whatever I can about our end of things- and if I can't explain it I'll bring in someone who can."

          "Hopefully your assistance won't be necessary very often; we've certainly managed the last few decades with none. Or as close to none as your predecessors could manage to get away with." Merlin's bitter, he knows this. There are so many things that would never have gotten as far as they had if someone with magic had lent a hand, lives that could have been saved, and who knows the potential help magic could be now. "But thank you. How am I supposed to contact you, if I don't have access to this room? I've always just sent a message with a portrait with news- I assume cell phones and such don't work in your neck of the woods."  
  
          "Not as such, no. Well, they didn't- they don't- we're working on it. It's difficult to find people to work on these kinds of projects. There's still this stigma about using muggle technology- my father-in-law's still frowned upon for being fascinated by electricity! We're working on it, though- calling it technomancy to make it more _appealing_ ," Potter shook his head as if trying to clear it, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, "to the common wizard. But, again, it's taking forever to get off the ground- not enough people versed in technology on our end of things. And those that are, are versed in stuff so outdated I doubt you could find them anywhere outside of a museum-" There was a ping from his glasses, and Merlin held up a hand to stop Potter from continuing before turning from him bodily.  
  
          "One moment- one of my team is calling for assistance." Accessing the feed, it turned out that Percival had stopped in and took over the feed from Lucan sometime earlier. He was just letting Merlin know that Gawain and Bedivere's missions had been completed successfully and they were on their way to HQ for delivery. Merlin nodded, acknowledging the update, before shutting the feet back off and turning back to Potter. "Sorry about that, I had to leave some important tasks to my team when I got your message- didn't know how urgent it would be."

          "Sorry for the inconvenience- I can only imagine the chaos that this place can be." Potter seemed almost wistful, as if he missed chaos on a similar scale, which was confusing but not his problem.  
  
          "Yeah, well, what do you have to modify, for it to work on your end? I'm not exaggerating when I say that having that kind of access to you and your people could be invaluable. If we're actually going to work as a real partnership I'd like to help if I can." He pulled the conversation back to business- it wasn't that he knew all that much about magic, but tech was something he knew better than anyone. Something that had only improved with age.  
  
          "It looks like the batteries just short out when exposed to magic- I don't understand a lick of it, but I'll get Hermione to come in. Maybe you two can fix it. I'll set up a two-way parchment to arrange a time- I'll send over a few options and we'll figure out what works best."  
  
          "Sounds like a plan. Now then, if I'm going to have you outside of this room," Potter's eyes widened, "then I'm going to be calling you Morgana." Merlin smirked.  
  
          "Isn't that toeing the line a bit?"  
  
          "Well I can't go about calling you Merlin, now, can I? We haven't had a proper Morgana since before I was initiated, and it's unlikely that anyone's going to over think your codename- most of ours are assigned by luck, chance, and loss after all." There was a somber pause, a moment of silence for those long since lost, before Merlin continued. "I'm not sure how much you wizards train physically, considering what I've seen of your magic you don't have to be exceptionally fast physically to evade attack, but we have training facilities if you'd like to use them. And a shooting range, but just be sure to keep references to magic nonexistent- there are very few people here with the clearance to know about you lot."  
  
          "That'd be wonderful, thanks- it's hard to find a decent gym on our side. I've never used a gun before, though- I'll need some help with that."  
  
          "That can be arranged. Now then, let's give you a proper rundown of how things are done out here. It's _kind_  of like James Bond- but it takes a lot of people to keep an operation like this one going."

          "Hey, do you think you can make my glasses like yours- with the calls and stuff?"  
  
          "Maybe someday- for now, let's concentrate on fixing the cell phone issue. One step at a time, Morgana." They walked out, Merlin's voice fading as the door shut behind them, the two of them looking simultaneously serious and at ease with their new work arrangement.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me on tumblr at [AgentDagonet](http://www.agentdagonet.tumblr.com)


End file.
